


Pieces of You

by melonbutterfly



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first time of many to come that Jim goes to Spock when he seeks emotional reassurance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of You

Spock does not like the expression on Jim's face.

It's not a special expression; actually, it is surprisingly empty, considering that not only is this Jim, but also a human. Humans very rarely look so flat, and when they do, in ninety-four percent of the incidents Spock has witnessed it means something had a big emotional impact on the person, one way or the other.

But for Jim to look like that – it seems... especially wrong. His Captain is one of the most expressive persons Spock knows, someone who seems to relish in his emotions like few others – in nearly all of them. Sure, when he is in a bad mood he does not specifically express it but merely keeps silent, exactly opposite the way he demonstrates his good moods, but a number of humans are like that, and Spock has learned that it is a kind of special cordiality of a person to keep their bad mood to themselves.

This is not like that, though. Jim just looks... not like Jim, as illogical as that is because he is, after all, Jim; of that Spock has no doubt.

So Spock reflects the events of the day, but nothing special has occurred, nothing to warrant that kind of expression, and only that morning Jim was in a good mood – despite the fact that he claims to be "not a morning person", which means that his energy and mood are supposedly low in the morning. Jim, of course, is nothing of the kind, but he likes to say and think he is, and Spock lets him. It's no special concern of his, after all, if Jim prefers to think of himself as "not a morning person", and it does not influence Jim's efficiency as a captain.

This specially unspecial expression is also no concern of his, he thinks, but he has had the opportunity to watch the proper reaction of a friend seeing their friend being "in need of a friend" before, and this might be an opportunity for himself to offer to be that friend. It's not exactly something he has waited for or even expected to happen one day – the odds were rather low, before Jim, seeing as Nyota is a very expressive person and is able to take care of herself, which includes alerting a friend when she needs one, and Spock simply is not close enough to anybody else to be in the position to make such an offer, not to mention to even want to make it – but it's going to be an interesting experience, he thinks. Not only because he has never before made such an offer, but also because Jim's expression is so- surprisingly incalculable. He has no data to base any odds on, no way to tell in any way how Jim might react, because this is a previously unknown expression and situation.

He does not hesitate. He rises from his meal, of which he has ingested about ninety-three percent and thus does not necessarily require to finish, and walks to where Jim has chosen to sit after getting his tray with food. It's an empty table in the corner, and Spock likens the picture to the human expression "sitting in the dark corner", though of course the light is no different there than anywhere else in the mess. But Jim is alone, and his body language tells enough that so far nobody has approached him; it's only a matter of time, though, because humans tend to congregate around him, and after months of careful study as his First, Spock can safely say that it is charisma intermixed with Jim's almost constant good mood. He has an easy air around him, a way to treat someone like they are a person and not a yeoman or a scientist or something else. It's very interesting, and Spock is not sure he will ever tire of observing Jim and the reactions he draws from everyone and anyone, himself included.

So it will only be a matter of time – approximately five point seven three minutes, to be exact, considering the way Scotty and Chekov are eyeing the Captain during their lively discussion about interwarp-beaming – until someone approaches Jim. If, though, Spock sits down with him, choosing the chair opposing him, not next to him – that might be interpreted as an invitation because the table will look lacking company to a human – and leans forward at an relatively acute angle, keeping almost constant eye-contact (though too much will look too intense, but Spock has practised the perfect balance long ago) with the captain, the crew will guess that they're having a private conversation and stay away, no matter how Jim looks. Spock has observed that in many public settings and has, from time to time, used this knowledge to manipulate his surroundings. He would use it on Jim too, but Jim is unusually observant for a human and does not appreciate it sometimes. At other times he acts like he is almost proud of Spock, which is puzzling for there is no reason to, but a lot about Jim Kirk is puzzling. This might be the reason Spock almost... enjoys observing him and does it so often.

Jim is not eating his food, is not even pretending to by using his fork to push it back and forth on his plate, as humans tend to when they do not want to eat for various reasons, but do not want anyone to notice. No; Jim is sitting with his tray in front of him and looking straight ahead as if there were something capturing his attention, something beyond the wall, which of course is totally impossible. He does not blink, does not move, does not react in any way when Spock sits down in the chair opposing him; it's as if he has not noticed Spock even though he moved into Jim's line of vision. Either Jim is so involved in his thoughts he is not aware of his surroundings anymore, or he is ignoring him – Spock can not tell either way. This is a totally new situation, and Jim is providing him with little data to calculate him at the best of times. He has to go by guessing – educated guessing, of course – and for just a moment, Spock thinks about letting somebody else, someone more qualified, help Jim. But of course that is not an option; apart from Dr. McCoy, there is nobody on the ship Jim would prefer to be with in a situation he cannot control completely, and the doctor is currently not aboard the ship. It is obvious, though, that when Spock tries to get to the core of the matter, Jim will have to expose a part of himself – which he has to Spock before, so this is not a completely new situation. They are close enough that Spock is a reasonable choice to help him.

"Jim," Spock says and leans forward slightly, deliberately not using Jim's title. He does not often call him by his given name because it creates a privacy he is often not prepared for, but this time it's obviously necessary. "Do you…" Loud laughter from a group of young men – mostly technicians, but also two members of the medical staff – interrupts him, and Spock only continues when their voice levels have lowered again. "Do you intend to eat dinner, or do you prefer to continue merely sitting in front of it?"

Normally, Jim would now grin and say something he considers funny, perhaps even throw his arm around Spock's neck as he is prone to do lately, but now he just looks at Spock for a moment, long enough for Spock to consider the possibility that Jim has not listened to him, despite the fact that he is looking at him. Then, Jim shakes his head and closes his eyes. "I suppose not. Do you-" he swallows noisily and opens his eyes again, and there is a little less detachment in his expression when he looks at Spock. "Would you- are you busy?"

Spock knows that what Jim is asking is not if he has something to do, but if he is willing to spend some time with him. Normally he would pick at his choice of words now, but not today. Today he simply says, "I am not."

And Jim nods and gets up, and the silence his whole body has been in is starting to frazzle at the edges; his hands are trembling as he smoothes out non-existent creases in his uniform. He looks around as if searching for something with his eyes before he stops, seemingly realising what he is looking for is not there. Without another word, he turns and leaves, but Spock has studied him long enough by now – him and human behaviour in general – to know he, if not actively, at least subconsciously expects him to follow, even though he did not outright say so.

So that is what Spock does.

When they arrive in the Captain's quarters, Jim sits down in the chair Spock usually sits in when they play chess, so Spock chooses the chair Jim usually vacates. For a moment they sit in silence, but Spock does not intend to break it; even the tiniest bit of pressure might cause a reaction in Jim, he has seen that a couple of times already. Right now Jim looks as if pressure is the last thing he needs. The human psyche is fragile and complicated, and most often not something calculable, which makes it both harder and more interesting to deal with – but this is no experiment, and Spock is more than passingly interested in the well-being of his Captain, not to mention that as First Officer, it's also part of his duty.

And then Jim moves with unexpected suddenness; he straightens and looks at Spock, runs a hand through his hair and, just as suddenly as he sat up, he slumps back in his chair. "I realise you might not- understand me," he begins and it's as if they're in the middle of a conversation that Spock missed, which of course is totally impossible. He has difficulties figuring out what Jim is speaking of, but it becomes obvious when he continues. "Especially since- I suppose you'd be happy even if you were in my situation, simply because it'd mean- and I know I should be thankful that she's still alive, but somehow, I find... not that I wish she was dead, not at all, and there is no but to it, but dealing with her has never been- something I was good at."

It's obvious who he's talking about. And Spock does not want to deepen the subject, but he knows why Jim so willingly took him with him to talk, and maybe this talk will be less about Spock's mother and more about Jim's. Jim is visibly agitated now; his shoulders are tense and it's in the way his fingers flex on his thighs; not into fists but as if he's only a moment away from balling them.

Spock decides it's time to say something. "Jim," he says, deliberately softening his voice. It feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and for a moment he wonders if Jim will think it odd and ask him to speak normal again, but he pushes the irrational thought away. "I do not know what the problem is, nor what the trigger. Perhaps you would like to elaborate?"

Jim lowers his gaze and rubs his nose before he looks up again, but he's not looking at Spock, not looking at anything anymore; he's lost in thought, as humans like to put it.

"My mother-" he begins, then pauses. "No, actually it was me, I suppose. You know that I was born the day my father died- I'm not sure that's really relevant." Another pause. "I grew up on my uncle's farm, with my mother, Uncle Frank and my brother Sam. When I was younger, she was always there but as I got older she started to leave; she was working for Starfleet too, you know, that's why she was- on the Kelvin as well, and she probably decided it was time to get an own life again when I was old enough.

"I don't really know why, but I've always been a rebel, a trouble-maker." At this, Jim shows an ironic little smile before returning to the story. "I could not stand the quiet, I could not stand standing still. I always had to do something, and on the country, that more often than not meant getting into some kind of trouble. I could not stand adults either; I hated the way they looked at me, talked about me, how they always said things like 'be gentle, that's George Kirk's son'. It made me aggressive like nothing else, still does. I do not want pity, and I do not want special treatment.

"It was especially bad with my uncle; he was always a little awkward with children, I suppose, just can't deal with them, and he is not the most empathetic person in the world either. We were fighting constantly. Didn't help that Sam was a good child; he did exactly what people expected of him, I don't know if on purpose or if it was the way he was anyway, but whenever someone compared me to him – and they all would, eventually – I was found lacking. And instead of trying harder to match up to his example, I tried harder to do the exact opposite. There's a lot of deeper psychology in that that I'm sure you could explain wonderfully and that I suppose I myself could explain almost as well, but that's not the problem.

"The problem is, I suppose, my mother." Jim pauses again; a tense silence ensues that he breaks with a shaky little sigh. It's obvious that this is hard for him, and Spock is not sure why he's suddenly telling him this, something so personal. But he's also- if he would allow himself to feel emotions, he'd be proud that it's him Jim is confining in and not somebody else, though he does not quite understand it. It seems Jim is looking for emotional comfort, and it is illogical to look for that in Spock, a Vulcan. But Jim is sometimes not logical; he is used to that by now.

"She- I don't know what kind of relationship we were supposed to have, I only know we don't have it. We never really had a connection, I suppose. In hindsight I know she tried, but I never really let her – it wasn't a conscious choice of mine, it just... didn't work. I don't know why. I only know that by the time I was sixteen, she was away more often than she was there, and the same went for me; it wasn't like we could not stand each other or constantly fought or something. We just... I don't know. I can't even tell."

Another silence ensues, but Jim is not still; he draws a shaky breath and rubs his nose again, shifts and glances at Spock. "I suppose-" he starts, then hesitates. "I suppose you're wondering where this is leading?"

Spock is indeed, but he is not sure he should nod or do anything to confirm this, for he also finds this self-analysis of Jim's quite fascinating.

The corner of Jim's mouth twitches, but it looks more bitter than anything else. "She remarried, you know. It was not a big deal or anything; it did not break my heart and I did not throw temper tantrums. At seventeen I was too old for that anyway. He was a nice guy too, I didn't hate him. It was fine. No idea what Sam thought about it; he was long gone by that time, and we didn't have much contact.

"Anyways. She had been in a relationship with him for years already, she didn't dive into it head-first or whatever. No reason for me to dislike her, her actions, or him. None at all.

"So. She married him, the following year I turn eighteen and moved out. I stayed with friends mostly; sometimes I had a job and slept there. I got around a lot and called home every couple of months; we did not have any deep conversations or something, my mother and I, but it was alright. I suppose in essence we had talked more when we were both at home, but she had been away longer and longer anyways the older I got.

"When I went to Starfleet... I did not tell her. I still called her two, maybe three times a year; when she'd ask what I was doing I'd say 'this and that' or something equally uninformative. She never asked for more information, and I never told.

"When all that stuff with the Nero happened, I knew she wouldn't know I was there. If I died in space, I knew some Admiral – because of my father, you know – would call her and she wouldn't even have known I was in Starfleet. I kind of felt bad for that, a little, but not much. And when it was over..." He pauses again, but only for a moment. "I pondered calling her and telling her everything. I thought she had a right to know, you know? That it was Nero who- whose fault it was that my father died. That in another lifetime, our lives would have gone totally different. And that he was dead, that I had killed him.

"But in the end... I couldn't. I knew it wouldn't help her one bit; I didn't even know if she still needed any help, but I sure as hell knew that it would not give her some conclusion or something, because it had done the opposite for me. And I didn't want her wondering for the rest of her life what that other Winona Kirk's life looked like, what memories she had to look back on, if she knew how lucky she was. Can you understand that at least one little bit?" There is a painful little smile on Jim's lips when he looks at him, but before Spock can finish formulating the answer in his head, way before he has a chance to voice it, Jim continues again, as if now that he has started, he has to get everything out in a rush.

"So I called her. I told her I was alright and alive. And when she looked at me and said that she had not even known I was in Starfleet, and how had that happened, I looked back at her and said 'Pike told me I had the potential to be greater than my father' and quit the call." For the first time that evening, Jim raises his eyes to look directly at Spock. "It was the first time I had mentioned my father in front of her. A week later, she called me to congratulate me on my captaincy. She said 'your father would have been proud'. It was the first time she mentioned my father in front of me."

Jim takes a shaky breath. "And then, today... I got a call from her. She said she can't do this anymore and that she's divorcing Carl – that's her husband. And I- I just-" He gives a smile that is not a smile, a human custom Spock has never understood. "She- she'll be alone, Spock. Sam is gone, on some planet doing whatever, Uncle Frank has been dead for three years now, she doesn't work anymore... she just- she has nobody, Spock. _Nobody_."

Jim looks up again, and there's so much vulnerability in his eyes, and suddenly Spock understands what this is about. Guilt. Jim is feeling guilty; he blames himself for his mother's emotions and for the fact that their relationship is not as it should be. Not as- not as Spock and his mother's had been.

Spock can not tell what is wrong between Jim and his mother; they obviously do not speak very often, but neither did Spock's mother with him, and there has been nothing wrong between them. It is possible that Jim and Winona Kirk just do not say the right things – though it is hard to tell what consists as 'right' and 'wrong' with humans, because so often it depends on the manner in which something is conveyed and not the choice of words – but really, Spock does not have enough experience with more intimate relationships to make an acceptable assumption.

He takes a small breath and says, "Jim. I understand your having a problem with your mother's decision, on the base that she will be alone, as you say. But you must understand that it is your mother's decision, not yours, and that she surely has taken that into account already. Apparently, she is of the opinion that the benefits of her decision outweigh the contras. There is not much you can do for her, and that which you can do will not make her reconsider." He pauses, taking in how Jim is listening to him with rapt attention even though he surely – he must – knows already everything Spock says. But sometimes, a person needs somebody else to explain their decisions or thoughts to them; it helps them being able to refocus on what is important, to find the right choice again. This is the first time Jim Kirk has such a moment – or the first time Spock is present for such, which is a lot more likely – and Spock files that away to the other peculiar attributes of Jim Kirk.

The next moment is spent in silence as Spock gathers his thoughts, trying to analyse the situation as best as he can with so little data and without ever having met Winona Kirk.

"If... if your mother thought she'd be less happy without her husband than with him, she would not have made the decision to divorce him. The way you describe her does not make her appear like somebody who revels in their own unhappiness, which would be the only logical reason to divorce even though she does not really want to – the only possible explanation is that she does want to. Whatever gain she had from her marriage, she either does not need or want it anymore, or it has waned.

"Jim." Spock leans forward a little; not a calculated movement but an instinctual one; he files this reaction of his to this situation away for later analysis. "Your mother has two adult sons who both have long moved out. It is natural progress that the children grow up and leave, and she surely is not only aware of that, but appreciates it. No parent, no matter how much they love their child, want them to never start their own life. And I do believe that your mother does feel more for you than a fleeting affection," he continues on almost a whim, reacting to the way Jim flinched when he spoke about the love of a parent for their offspring. "Otherwise, she would not have made sure you have stayed in contact all this time, and otherwise she would not have made the effort to call you to tell you about her decision to divorce. It does not directly affect your life or concern you on any other level than a personal one, so logically, there was no need to tell you – and yet she still did, and even before she actually executed her decision. It indicates that she cares about you, that she wants you to know about her life."

Something he has said must have been wrong, because Jim lowers his gaze again, and then he says, quietly, "I did not even tell her I was at the Academy."

"Yes, you did not," Spock acknowledges calmly. "She probably was not happy about that. But," he continues, pointedly not reacting to Jim's flinching and biting his lower lip. "that was years ago. And even had it only happened yesterday, there is no way for you to change the past. All you can do is learn from it, let it affect the way you're acting, reacting and deciding now. The choice is yours; you can either continue the way you have until now, or you can call her and speak to her."

"But what should I say?", Jim asks, and there is vulnerability in his eyes, in his voice and also in the way he worries his lower lip. And Spock knows that there are few, very few people that Jim lets in this far, that he allows to get to see him like this. That he allows to affect him like this.

"There are many possibilities," he says calmly, forcing his thoughts away from the intimacy of the situation back to the topic at hand. Now is not the time to analyse the implication and meanings. "You could tell her about your worries concerning her decision to divorce. Or you could start at the beginning, explain the situation like you just did to me, and tell her how you're feeling about the current state of your relationship. Or you might tell her the whole story of Nero and the impact he had on your lives. Or you could invite her to the gathering that will be held on Earth when we bring the Enterprise back for reparations."

"The gathering, huh?" Jim looks up at him. "Invite her just like that? I've never invited her for anything."

"Which is precisely why she would most likely make the right deductions from your inviting her now. It is a step towards repairing your relationship without actually speaking about it, if you do not feel you are ready for that yet. Though I might advice you to, as humans put it, 'talk things out' with her. I have learned that that is the easiest way of dealing with a situation of that nature." When you are a human dealing with humans, that is.

Jim is silent for a moment, apparently thinking about everything Spock said, and then he nods earnestly and looks at him with his honest gaze, but his expression is unusually open. It might have seemed like he only spoke to Spock because the opportunity presented itself, but they both know that it's a lot less often than most people assume that the things Jim Kirk does are actually as spontaneous or reactive as they seem. "Thank you, Spock," he says and does not smile, but Spock, knowing how open and generous Jim is with his smiles, prefers it that way. He simply nods, acknowledging all that Jim does not say, and they sit in silence.


End file.
